


Null-Void and the Theory of Color

by fictionalwritings09



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blind Frisk, Cooking, Discrimination, Drama, F/M, Female Frisk, Food, Friendship, Integration, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Racism, Romance, Segregation, Suicidal Thoughts, Teenage Frisk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9816374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalwritings09/pseuds/fictionalwritings09
Summary: [AU] It had been over 60 years since Monsters had re-emerged. And with them brought an age of technological and industrial revolution - but also a set-back in thinking. Segregation is still prevalent in many cities across the nation, but hope still struggles for a peaceful, equal solution. It's not easy to see past the color of one's skin...especially when you may not have any.





	1. The Story of the Girl

**Author's Note:**

> FW09: So...it has come. LOL I've been reading Undertale fics for some time now and I can't get enough, man! After binge-writing all those chapters for "Breaking Walls", I've been looking for ways to get back into my other fics - but it's still not hitting me. So, for now, I'm channeling the creative flow into doing an Undertale thing.
> 
> I know that there's an Undertale Highschool AU, but I'm not sure what it's called...but that is this thing, with a few extra added bits that you can see from the summary.
> 
> Note: There is synesthesia in this fic, specifically the kind that creates colors, shapes, and flashes in the vision according to the sounds you hear. And at the same time, Frisk is blind. So...yeah. There's going to be a lot of color-play here, so I hope you all like Crayola-box descriptions!
> 
> ALSO: There are some depressing elements to this tale, such as thoughts of suicide and racial discrimination. Please do not read if these things offend you, but if you are still willing to give this fic a shot, please know that I do not condone discrimination, nor do I believe that killing yourself is an answer. You are a beautiful person, and your life is precious - even if you don't know it or don't think it.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Undertale, that would be the amazing Toby Fox.

* * *

**Door #0**

**The Story of the Girl**

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a little girl.

She lived on the outskirts of a city, in a quaint village that was far enough from civilization to breathe, but close enough to still enjoy its wonders.

She had a mother, and a father, and a pet goat named Orwell, who enjoyed eating golden flowers.

They lived in peace and harmony, and taught their daughter many things - such as how to stay determined in the face of adversity, and the virtue of kindness.

She grew up happy and loved.

Never once did she question why they lived in that village, or why they rarely saw other people.

She only knew her mother, her father, and Orwell.

But one day, Orwell disappeared.

Concerned, the little girl wandered from her home in the village, and followed a trail of broken flowers up a mountain.

Hoof prints and boot prints marked the trail, but the hoof prints turned into drag marks.

The little girl was frightened, but pressed on.

Soon, she found Orwell.

And the strangers that had took him - some of them, fellow villagers.

They looked at her, and she could not understand.

Why did they look at her like that?

She could only understand how it made her feel: scared.

Words she never heard before were uttered.

_Abomination. Freak. Muddied. Half-Breed. Mixed.  
_

She didn't understand.

Then she saw Orwell.

He had been hung from a tree at the entrance of a cave, _by his neck._

She pushed her way past the strangers.

She put a hand on Orwell's furry chest, but could not feel a heartbeat.

What was wrong with him?

She turned to the strangers to ask, but they remained silent.

_Why are they looking at her like that?_

Then, one of them pushed her.

 _Straight down into the cave_.

* * *

...Down...

* * *

..Down..

* * *

.Down.

* * *

.down.

* * *

down

* * *

...

* * *

_Crunch._

* * *

_..._

_..._

_..._

_She had fallen._

_And she could not get up._

_She cried for help._

_But no one came._

_..._

_She could not see._

_..._

_She could feel sunlight on her skin, but it was dark._

_She could not see._

_She could hear someone...above her._

_She could not see._

_It was her parents! They'd found her!_

_She could not see._

_Their hands were on her face, and their kisses._

_She could not see._

**_"Frisk, baby, we're right here...you can open your eyes now."_ **

_She could not see._

**_"Honey, what's wrong with her?"_ **

_She could not see._

**_"Oh my God...her eyes are...oh God, no...no, no, no, no...oh my poor baby, God, please no!"_ **

_. ._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _._

 _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._

 _Shecouldnotsee._ _Why...itssowrong._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._

 _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Somuchpainbut..._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._

 _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Ithurtssosomuch._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Suffocatingmeso._ _Shecouldnotsee._

 _Thedarknessit..._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._

 _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _'tI...see_ _._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._

 _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._

 _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._

 _...itssodark._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._

 _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._

 _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._

 _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._

 _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._

 _Shecouldnotsee._ _Shecouldnotsee._

_..._

_..._

_..._

**_She can't see anything...but she can hear.  
_ **

_..._

_..._

_..._

**_And the sounds make colors._ **

_..._

_..._

_..._

**_There are so many colors...so beautiful._ **

_..._

_..._

_..._

* * *

**"Ms. Fox? Ms. Fox? Are you with us Ms. Fox?"**

The sound of her teacher, Mrs. Donahue, woke her up. Dusty clouds of grey puffed lazily, and dully in front of her. Frisk rubbed at her eyes slowly, clearing away the sleep. They remained closed as she gained her bearings.

What time was it?

Her right hand searched for the phone on the wooden, flimsy desk, remembering that she'd put it off to the right side. Every little scrape was a sliver of brown, discordant and plucky. Her lithe fingers found the device, the base of it rooted to the desk by suction cup so she wouldn't knock it down. Glad it was still there, she found the button that turned it on and pressed it twice.

" _3:23 PM,_ " it told her. Chunky green blocks appeared in her vision boldly, but it didn't form numbers - just blocks. She frowned at the time.

It was nearly the end of the period, and she'd slept through most of it. A quiet tittering of giggles and chuckles reached her ears, little flying shapes of brown-orange fuzziness flitting across her vision. And the quiet, insistent tapping of her teacher's foot - a dark gray staccato line - didn't make her feel any better.

"Ms. Fox, time and time again I've told you that just because your eyes are closed for medical reasons, doesn't mean you can go to sleep and think I won't catch you!" Mrs. Donahue croaked in exasperation, sending more choking clouds of grey at her, "And this is the second time you've dozed off this week! If this keeps happening, I might need to have a talk with your parents."

Frisk shook her head in a panic, her bobbed hair whipping to and fro in the frantic shaking.

"Then I suggest you keep your head out of the clouds and back in class," the teacher warned, and Frisk nodded numbly, "...Troublemaker."

The hushed insult didn't go by unnoticed, and the rest of the class burst into quiet laughter and nasty gossip - spiked balls of brown and orange bouncing and colliding, sometimes melting together in gross harmony. Frisk, on the other hand, remained silent, and her fingers drifted over the keys of her computer instead, letting her head duck into the laptop for a time. Mrs. Donahue continued her lecture, but the teenage girl could still feel the crone's watchful and hawkish gaze on her. Still, Frisk remained strong and nodded to herself.

Today was almost over, and she had her computer on "record" so she could re-listen to the lecture after class. Everything was going to be all right.

 _Stay determined_.

* * *

"Frisk, it's me, baby. C'mon, you fell asleep again."

Soft purple swirls were the first thing she saw, dull sparkles flashing in the galaxy-pinwheels.

A soft touch to her cheek, and Frisk leaned into the warm touch. She felt the lifelines in the palm, counted each one, and confirmed that it was her mother's hand. Frisk listened quietly to see if anyone else was around, and the telltale, heavy-set breathing of Arnie the janitor huffed to her right. The huff was a deep forest-green, bushy and hard to see amid the darkness.

"I can't keep doin' this, Mrs. Fox," Frisk stood up and slid her backpack onto her shoulders as the adults continued, "The board's already lookin' to lynch me from the job ever since the riots started, and I can't have anythin' go on my job record before I - "

"I know, Arnie, but...my job always keeps me so late, and this is the only school in a mile that's willing to look after my baby's education," Frisk turned towards her mother's voice, and it paused before continuing in a whisper, "And with Wally gone, I'm...it's just been so hard..."

The purple swirls of her mother's voice turned into a silvery-purple, dimming to a soft glow, and the sparkles disappeared nearly altogether.

Arnie gave a sigh before Frisk heard his worn workman boots squeal against the linoleum floor sadly. They were a blue-green ripple, syncing in time to his steps.

"Mrs. Fox...Kathy. Can I be...frank?"

"...No, your name's Arnie."

"Heh! You and your sense of humor," he chuckled (a lighter, happier shade of green, just a flash), and Frisk smiled with him, "But seriously...I know you don't want me sayin' this, but you should get away from here, Kathy. You and her, both. This place ain't safe for people like us no more...not with all these riots, and fear. Even this school...I can feel it in my bones, ma'am."

"And go where, Arnie?!" her mother's hands came up to turn Frisk around and against her, keeping her close, "I can't go back there...not to _that place_. And we barely have enough money to afford rent here, as is. We have no choice...we _have_ to stay here. It's the only way to keep her in school, and I'm not going to see her waste away like those...those..."

Frisk could hear the disgust and sad pity in her mother's voice, lacing the neutral purple with tints of blue and green, a noxious but smooth wave of color. And the girl didn't need to hear the rest of those words - she knew what her mother was talking about. She could hear the sound of smoke as it passed through the lips of girls that had decided to ditch school, coiling columns of hissing acid-green as she walked by the street-corner hookers and prostitutes. Not all of them ended up like that, but there were more than enough from her neighborhood to understand that it was a common occupation that girls took up when they had nowhere left to go.

"I know, Kathy, I know..." he went quiet for a few moments, and Frisk could feel her mother put her hands on her ears.

Muffled words were exchanged, and wisps of purple and green slipped in between, darting like fish. When Mrs. Fox finally released Frisk's head, the girl tilted her head in question.

"...Frisk, baby?"

The girl felt herself turned around, and her mother pressed a soft palm to her cheek. She reached up to put her hand over her mother's, smiling as best she could despite the tense atmosphere.

"Do you...like this school?" she asked, a bit of frayed nerves tinging the purple color with kinks and bumps, like a heart line monitor.

"..." Frisk thought for a moment, then answered, "Uh-huh."

"Do you 'like' it, like it?" Mrs. Fox pressed onward, her thumb tracing her daughter's petite cheekbone lovingly.

"...It's okay," she replied softly, with a touch of honesty.

Frisk didn't mind learning. She had a soft spot for music class as an extracurricular activity (the colors were so pretty), and history was fascinating to her - especially when they got started on the Monster Re-Emergence of 1856 and continued from there. The teachers were as accommodating as they could stand, she supposed, which was better than her last school. And being able to hear people moving around her was an improvement over the quietness of their own home, which was deathly-silent when her mother would leave to get to her next job.

And being in a place with no sound was terrifying.

"Why 'okay', baby?"

"I don't have any friends."

Mrs. Fox was quiet. And Frisk cringed inwardly at the way she reacted - she hated silence. Maybe she shouldn't have told her, but her mother had taught her that it was okay to be honest with her. Even when the things she had to say weren't pleasant.

"Well, maybe that'll change," Kathy seemed to have made up her mind, and Frisk felt her mother pull her into a hug, "Honey...what do you think of going to one of those new...integrated schools?"

Frisk's head popped up from her mother's shoulder, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

**Integrated School.**

It was a word whispered in the halls of Prentiss High like the name of a disease. Integration was nothing new, per se, but it had been a long fight that spanned over 50 years and counting. And one of the newest ways they decided to try to integrate was putting children of all colors and sizes into the same environment.

White.

Black.

Asian.

Hispanic.

**Monster.**

Frisk had overheard stories that people who went into integrated schools often didn't come back. And if they did, they were like pariahs. Outcasts. As though they might've caught something, just by brushing up against one of them.

...Well, that wasn't anything Frisk was a stranger to, though.

Being blind, and a half-breed mix between an African-American mother and an Asian father (some had mistakenly assumed her father was white) had made her enough of a "freak" in the eyes of the community. And the children and teenagers were the same.

Frisk chewed on her cheek, afraid that her thoughts were on her face. Her mother would wash her mouth out with soap if she said what she was thinking out loud. Mrs. Fox, however, only seemed to stare at her, and the silence was beginning to get unnerving.

"You don't have to go," she continued in absence of her daughter's answer, letting her go to address her, "It was...just a suggestion, baby. I know that moving to a new school will be scary, but we'd be moving with Arnie. He said they offered him a job not too long ago, and there are some affordable places around that area now..."

_Because it was inhabited by every kind of race, even monsters._

"The school is...I've heard it's something else," Mrs. Fox tried an uplifting tone, and Frisk appreciated her mother's attempt, "They got facilities that...would make your head spin! And things you ain't even heard of before!"

_Because it had magic._

"...Arnie says they could take care of...someone like you," Mrs. Fox breathed and a quiver of tears broke her voice, shards of icy blue piercing the once-strong swirls of beautiful violet, "They have braille - _actual braille_ , so you can read just like those other fool-kids! And special teachers, too! Even the...uh...the _other_ kind."

_Monster teachers._

"I know it's a long-shot, baby, but...maybe you could even find friends?"

"...Monster friends?" Frisk whispered out loud, and her mother's words died in her throat.

Again, silence. She could feel air breeze past her, and acknowledged the quick turn of her mother's head, probably in Arnie's direction.

"Y-You could," Mrs. Fox seemed to be struggling with the idea, "You can have w-whatever friends you want at this school. At least they wouldn't be lacking in diversity, haha..."

"Frisk," Arnie coughed and spoke up, his dark green-tinted voice much closer now, "There's a scholarship comin' up, for that school. I managed to snag a flyer for ya on the way out o' the interview. It looks pretty good - a full ride, a dream come true for folks like us. I'm going to put in your hand now..."

He reached out and took one of her hands slowly, trying to be gentle to her. Frisk nodded with a small, numb smile as she tried to process what her mother said and Arnie's new information. A regular sheet of paper, a bit crumpled, was pressed into her waiting hand.

"Go on... _read_ it."

Frisk looked in his direction with confusion. She rubbed her hands along the surface of the flyer, certain that it was smooth, but...in a second, she could feel bumps magically form under her fingers. Frisk nearly dropped the item, and she could hear her mother gasp. On the flyer, it detailed several scholarships, but the best one was the "2017 BRIDGING GAPS - AMBASSADOR PROGRAM" scholarship.

"Do you...have what it takes?" she repeated some of the information out loud as she read the flyer with her fingers, "To bridge the gap? Write an essay...to show that you are...looking to the future...to equality and peace...shared by all races...even monsters..."

"And you have a way with words, Frisk," Arnie piped up, his forest-green voice showing bursts of white light in optimism, "I've read some of your...uhm...well, you threw 'em out, so I just..."

Sounds of him unfolding and un-crinkling something caused her cheeks to flush bright red. She'd thrown out numerous short stories and essays, but to think Arnie had been reading them this whole time...he pressed them into her hands, too.

"I know you can win that scholarship, Frisk," his hopeful words were also bashful, "Some o' the things you wrote here are just wonderful. Maybe you can use 'em to...you know, make that essay somethin' extra special."

"Frisk...this is still your choice," her mother butt in unexpectedly, and her hands were on Frisk's arms again, "I can deal with just about anything, but you, baby? I want this choice to be _your_ choice."

Stunned by all of the information she'd just received, Frisk was quiet and pensive. She looked down at the flyer and read the scholarship once more, her fingers marveling at the bumps that clearly weren't there before.

Something warm hummed inside of her. As if it were _calling_ her.

She had always strove to be what her parents wanted of her, to be a normal person in spite of her limitations. Aspirations for anything higher than to keep her head above water were dropped, in favor of surviving. The most basic dream was _her_ dream: a good education, a good job, a good partner, a good marriage, a good family, a good end...but never happiness. Never _greatness_. Never _more_ _,_ and if it was _less_? So be it.

And yet, she had always had a small part of her that never gave up. Something that kept pushing her forward.

It was this same something that kept her from ending her dismal existence - suffering between discrimination from her classmates and her community, from the darkness that consumed her vision, and her own feeling of utter uselessness. Her mother worked hard at 3 jobs a week, and one of them was a cooking _servant_ in a wealthy woman's home (Kathy would say chef, but Frisk knew better). Mrs. Fox kept a knife...a sharp, sharp, _sharp_ knife in her kitchen, and Frisk had more than once touched its steel with apathetic wonder.

But she never did use it. Not in the way she knew she shouldn't. Her mother said that Frisk was all she had left, after her father passed.

It would hurt her _so much..._

So Frisk settled. She wished for _good_ , but not more.

She stayed strong, but just enough to keep ahead of the bad.

...

But that part of her that never gave up?

How it ached now. How her body grew light and her head started floating towards those clouds Mrs. Donahue kept warning her about.

 _A full-ride_ _scholarship_. _Magic_. _Friends_.

Frisk raised her head in the direction of her mother, and she felt that secret part of her awaken and thrum in hope. It grew like a sunflower, finally nourished by healthy rays of light and cool, refreshing water. Second-hand doubts and fears flitted out of the way, like bats shying from the sun.

"I want to go," she stated with a shaky, hopeful, _wonderful_ smile, "I want to go to this school."

Arnie and Mrs. Fox gave sounds of relief and excitement, pops of light-green and vibrant violet flashing in tandem.

Frisk turned her attention back to the flyer, to her _dream_ , and her smile grew.

_Despite all the bad things, and the worse things, reading the flyer and wishing for the future filled her with...DETERMINATION._


	2. Morning Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk and her mother have moved into their new apartment in the Ebott District and are preparing for Frisk's first day at school. She goes through her morning routine, as does her mother, and they share a few emotions and thoughts on the coming day. Once done, all that's left is to take that first step outside the door...
> 
> Surely, nothing bad would happen right out of the gate, right? Frisk can't possibly be that unlucky...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FW09: So, onto the next chapter!
> 
> Ehm, to address the naming situation...I decided to use "Fox" as the last name just for simplicity's sake, and to honor Toby Fox himself! If anyone does happen to have a problem with it (I'm getting weird vibes from using it myself, for some reason...), then I'll change it. We're still early on in the story, so no worries!
> 
> As for where in the world this story takes place, we are in America. However, the geography and layout of the story will be pretty vague. You will hear mention of districts, which is a physical representation of the racial segregation in the story. (Sorry if it sounds like Hunger Games - because it is a little bit like that.) The time, as you might've guessed, is modern - but a lot of the things we take for granted today, such as having integrated bathrooms and being able to sit wherever you want on a bus, those things are not present in this story. It has a 1960s-era racist segregation mindset with technology from today's world.
> 
> It can be a little confusing, but hopefully that explanation cleared a few things up! If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to write me a PM or a review!
> 
> Disclaimer: Undertale is owned by Toby Fox! I, however, do own this story.

* * *

**Door #1**

**Morning Routine**

* * *

***beep* *beep* *beep* *beep* *beep* *beep* *beep*  
**

* _click_ *

Katherine "Kathy" Fox, previously known as Katherine Fox Matsuzawa, yawned widely as she glanced at the clock. It read "4:31 AM", a little under half an hour before her shift at Rory's Diner. She rolled in her sheets, and shivered at the bit of morning cold that had slipped into her bed, before getting up completely. Rory wasn't known for his patience, after all.

' _Or being a great boss,_ ' she thought snarkily, remembering the last time he had feigned ignorance as to why she hadn't received her pay yet.

The first time he'd done it, Kathy had been too afraid of losing her job to question why. That was also the first and last time she ever had to tell Frisk that they'd have to make do with handouts from the soup kitchen. Just remembering her baby's face scrunch up then fall in resigned acceptance was horrible. Kathy glanced around her bedroom as she slipped into an old robe and a pair of slippers, noting that she still had to unpack a lot of her own furniture and items still.

It was a quaint bedroom, approximately 8' by 9', but it was still an improvement from the hole-in-the-wall apartment she'd rented over in the Prentiss District. There, the bedroom and living room were one and the same, with the only other rooms being one small cramped kitchenette and a toilet. Torn, faded wallpaper and leaky roofs were the tamer problems, and Kathy had to work to keep the place smelling at least mildly normal - Frisk never did say anything, but her sense of smell was just as good as her hearing.

Here, on the other hand, there were two separate bedrooms, one lovely full kitchen, two bathrooms, one living room, and access to an apartment complex-garden. How she could afford such an apartment, she still couldn't believe it.

_Because it's right next door to monsters._

Another shiver ran through her, but it wasn't the cold that did it this time.

Kathy went to one of the boxes and pulled aside the cardboard flaps to take out her waitress uniform: a simple blue collared dress that ended modestly at her knees with a little stitched "Kathy" in white cursive on the right breast. Again, Rory's smug expression surfaced in her mind, and she frowned.

That _ass_. He knew she could cook. One of her jobs involved cooking for a rich family in the Hampshire District, and the other was making food at a dine-in bar in Newhouse District. And she hadn't been fired yet, so she must be doing _something_ right. Her early years training with Wally had paid off, and now she was getting experience where she could. Rory, on the other hand, claimed that a black woman with little to no education was just as equally unlikely to be able to cook as the white snot-nosed brat he'd hired over her. Kathy was set to light Rory's toupee on fire, had she not needed the money.

She took a deep breath through her nose and let it go through her mouth.

' _In with the foul, out with the clean,_ ' she chanted in her head, a phrase that Wally liked using to explain how to let things not disturb her. She took one more deep breath and went to the bathroom.

Just like the bedroom, it was fairly bare. A toothbrush, a hairbrush, and a blow dryer decorated the counter, but nothing else. Her purse sat off to the side, and she dug through it to get to her make-up. Again, she was tempted to spite Rory by showing up _all-natural_ , and see what he'd think of an unattractive waitress who'd do better in the kitchen than working the tables. Kathy looked in the mirror and sighed.

A woman of color and 38 years stared back at her. She was a bit on the fair side compared to most, and she smiled when she remembered how her daughter used to compare her to food: a caramel cream, not a dark chocolate. Tired, hazel-brown eyes traced her oval-shaped face, and she brought a finger to lift at puffy bags underneath, darkening the skin. Kathy ran the hand up to her hair next, feeling the coarse black hair as it puffed out in a tangled afro. She patted it a few times, feeling the curls bounce under her fingers, and sighed again. She was so tired...they'd stayed up moving everything and had a little celebration at the end when they finished the bare minimum of unpacking.

Frisk had been so excited...and who was her mother to say she couldn't feel happy?

And it had been so long since they were both happy about anything...it just felt _right_.

"...Mom?" came a call from outside her bathroom, and Kathy snapped to attention, "Are you in there?"

"Yeah, baby," Kathy stood up and wrapped the robe around herself just a little tighter, "Give me a second."

She opened the door to find her daughter, her still-shut eyes puffy and her pajamas (a pink-and-purple striped top and bottom combination that was just half-a-size too big) ruffled. Apparently she hadn't slept well.

"You okay, honey?" the concerned mother pulled the teenager into the bathroom with her, being mindful of the bathroom rug and her stumbling feet.

"..." Frisk remained quiet, but Kathy knew better.

"Hmph...worried about that new school, huh?" she smiled softly at her girl as she nodded, "So? Excited? Nervous?"

"...Both," she whispered quietly, and Kathy started smoothing the fluffy mess of her daughter's dark brown hair in a comforting gesture.

"I know, baby, but you know what? I'm going to bet you're not gonna be the only one who feels like that today," she grabbed the brush to do a better job, taking the little time she had to at least give her daughter some motherly affection. A little spin, and Frisk faced the large mirror as her mother started working the thick brush through her hair. And at the same time, Kathy looked at her baby's features.

Frisk had her mother's oval-face, proud chin, and defined cheekbones. From her father, she had his almond-shaped eyes, full lips, and straight, dark brown hair. Kathy admired the way it was so manageable and thick, just like Wally's, and fell voluminously. It was such a shame they had to keep it short, for practicality's sake - many a heart attack was had at her expense when Frisk would be left behind unintentionally, her hair stuck in a door or caught on something that caused her to stop for long periods of time. Wally had been just as upset, but was the more rational of the two parents when he took her to a barbershop one day and came back with their daughter, and her hair four inches shorter.

The one thing shared between both of her parents was Frisk's skin color - a mix of Wally's lighter, paler complexion and Kathy's richer, sienna-hued tone. The combination was a shade of sun-kissed tan, which was gorgeous, if Kathy ever was asked. She remembered fondly that when Frisk could see, she used to call herself "Macaroni and Cheese" - the name of a yellow-brown Crayola crayon - and Wally would have a laugh, saying that it was so ironic, considering it was one of Kathy's favorite comfort foods. However, the color of her skin often caused a lot of confusion as to her father's race. Frisk never got upset, however, in spite of Kathy's own temperamental rebuttals, and would correct the confused offenders politely and patiently.

...Kathy supposed Frisk also inherited Wally's patience, thank the heavens. And a bit of his short stature, which was 5'5". Kathy stood at 5'8", but Frisk was 5'2". Though, she had been growing a bit taller in the past few years, her mother supposed she wouldn't be taller than 5'3" or 5'4" once she was done growing.

"...I couldn't sleep," Frisk roused Kathy from her musings, "Because I thought that if I went to sleep, I would wake up...and it all turned out to be a dream."

Her mother stared wide-eyed at her, and she stopped brushing the short hair immediately. So the puffy eyes weren't from staying up, but from crying...

"I'm so happy...it's not a dream," Frisk admitted quietly, and another tear slipped out from behind her lids.

"Oh baby..." Kathy felt tears well up in her own eyes, and she hugged her gently from behind, "Baby, baby, baby...you _deserve_ to be at this school. And they are _lucky_ to have you."

She started swinging her from side-to-side, and she grinned when Frisk started laughing lightly, her arms coming up to hug around her mother's. Her tone, soft and musical and playful, echoed in the small bathroom.

"We saw that letter, didn't we?"

"Uh-huh!"

"And they said you were one of _the_ best writers they ever did see, didn't they?"

"Mm-hmm!"

"And that they were _honored_ to have you come, weren't they?!"

"Yeah!" Frisk's enthusiasm on the last outburst was interrupted by a giggle, Kathy's face dipping down to kiss her daughter's head affectionately, "Mom! Mom, no! I'm 16 years old, you can't keep kissing me like a baby anymore!"

"Oh hush, you, let me spoil you when I can," she admonished and silenced her daughter's whines, smiling against her daughter's hair, "...Frisky, baby, you're gonna do _amazing_ things at this school. I can _feel_ it, just like Arnie can feel the atmosphere in his bones!"

Frisk smiled in her mother's embrace, and sighed when her mother released her.

"Now go on, clean up," the older woman whispered to her, kissing her cheek, "Once I'm done here, I'm gonna cook you up a good breakfast to send you on your way, okay?"

Comforted and loved, Frisk only nodded in return with a smile as bright as the sun on her face, and Kathy's heart melted at the sight as her precious daughter walked away. If only there were more days like this in her life...then maybe she'd be able to see Frisk smile more often.

* * *

Delicate fingers traced the clean, cool surface of the apartment as Frisk walked back to her room, her fears and doubts blown away by her mother's words and kisses.

It hadn't been a dream.

She had won the scholarship. She was going to school in the Ebott District, to _Ebott Academy._ A monster-made school for humans and monsters alike, to encourage integration and peace between all races and species.

 _Even for someone like her_.

Frisk glided like she was floating on air, her path unhindered by objects such as the sofa or the coffee table. Every home she'd ever been in, her father, then her mother, took great pains to make sure all furniture was pushed away from the walls, allowing Frisk to use them as her guide. It was easier than trying to maneuver through open space, and it let her move freely about without having someone needing to guide her.

She reached the bathroom easily, feeling for the frame and counting the layered edges to confirm - four for the bathroom, and three for her own bedroom. Frisk smiled to herself quietly. One thing that was positive about her condition was that it honed her memorization skills. She was also a champ at auditory learning, and had a solid foundation in deductive logic - which made her great at puzzles. Frisk turned on the light to let her mother know she was in the room, then proceeded into her daily rituals.

Everything she had was labeled in braille - which was especially handy when it came to her bottled items, such as shampoo, face wash, lotion, and medical ointment. Frisk grabbed the face wash first and proceeded to feel for the sink, centering herself by lining up between its edges. Her father had taught her how to carefully measure distance, to avoid splashing water everywhere unnecessarily, and touched the faucet before leaning down towards the basin.

' _...It's much nicer than the old bathroom's_ ,' she thought mildly, the smooth metal cool and nice to touch.

While she normally didn't get hung up on the way things looked (barring the obvious), she did enjoy good textures from time to time. The quality of _smoothness_ was her favorite - and she had a small treasure box of items she kept with her in her bedroom. Her favorites to touch were polished stones from little souvenir stores, like tiger's eye, rose quartz, and moonstone. One would think she enjoyed geology or was a rock hound from the collection, where the stones ranged from pebbles to the ones that barely fit in her tiny palm. And she could tell what each one was, just by feeling them.

When she'd woken up that morning, frightened that she'd fallen asleep, Frisk had reached out for one of them, a palm-sized tiger's eye, and let her hands run over it in comfort. But it hadn't been enough, which prompted her to seek her mother.

Frisk shut off the water once she was done, pat her face with a nearby towel, and applied the lotion next, which was a combination of sunscreen and moisturizer. Her mother had instructed her on the importance of taking care of herself and keeping to a schedule, even if Frisk couldn't see the results of her care herself. Hygiene was essential, and taking care of your skin was paramount.

" _You only got one face, and one body,_ " her mother told her when she was ten, " _And no replacements. So you take care of them, and they'll take care of you. Understand, baby?_ "

She capped the lotion with care and set it in its proper place, rubbing her face gently to avoid any embarrassing streaks of extra lotion.

One face, one body - handle with care. That was the motto.

...

Frisk turned her head in the direction of the medical ointment. Her eyes counted as a part of her face, but they were already damaged. And the echo of the motto turned just a little darker.

_No replacements._

Still, as Frisk's fingernails drummed against the bathroom counter, she stared into the black oblivion and noted the sharp bursts of yellow taking on a multi-pointed shape. She _saw_ the colors, clearly. And when she'd told her parents, they'd scraped together everything they had to send her to a medical professional, who said that perhaps her eyes weren't completely lost. They tried various non-invasive procedures, like therapy, but the ultimate recommendation was surgery, which her parents couldn't afford and had low odds in success (not to mention the strangely-unfavorable survival rate). In the end, it was Frisk's decision in accepting her condition that prevented them going through with it.

Thus, the final recommendation was a special ointment, prescribed to be rubbed into her eyes every other day. Frisk opened the jar of jelly-like goo and shuddered. It didn't feel pleasant, but it was tolerable, and she took a deep breath before lifting her eyelids. She never did see the change in her eyes, which had once been a soft hazelnut color, but upon hitting her head in the fall...

She remembered keenly when the emergency responder had first opened her eyes manually, and sprang back in shock and fear. Unbeknownst to her, fine cracks of blood had spread from her pupil like a disjointed spiderweb, making her seem altogether unnatural, and the disjointed fragments of her broken irises were covered in a cloudy-milky blue.

" _The stuff of nightmares..._ " she'd heard him say off to the side.

Frisk rubbed the ointment in as fast and as carefully as she could before letting her eyelids fall shut, squeezing them tight as her breath quickened and cold washed over her in a wave. She hated opening her eyes as much as silence. If being a mixed child was "disturbing", her eyes would be described as "haunting" and "horrifying". Over the years and careful monitoring, her mother had told her that the damage had faded somewhat, that the color had blended together - as if the blood had mixed with the hazel and turned into a dark red-amber color. The milky-blue cloudiness was still there, but it wasn't as muddy as when she'd first opened her eyes after the fall, and became more of a light silvery-sheen.

Still, if she ever did open her eyes, Frisk could practically feel the tension in the air, and soft, unnerved whispering would be uttered behind her back as she passed.

It made her feel so self-conscious and _ugly_...

She capped the ointment and pushed it back into the corner, far from her, as she bent over the sink. Drops of excess gel dripped from her closed eyelids, and she took small, calming breaths. Truthfully, a small part of her never did want to get her eyesight back. Frisk could still remember the faces of the villagers that had pushed her down that cave. And the _hate_...the raw disgust and ignorant fear in their eyes was a terrible sight to behold, especially to little 12-year-old Frisk.

She didn't care if she ever saw another person's face again after that. And she'd told her father this once - only to be reprimanded, and advised to never tell her mother.

" _It would break her heart,_ " Wallace "Wally" Matsuzawa explained, taking his tiny daughter in his arms. Elegant, powerful sweeps like the stroke of a paintbrush colored Frisk's vision, in vibrant hues of blue-green, turquoise, and cyan - her father's colors.

" _...Why?_ "

" _Well, y_ _our mother believes that eyes are the windows to the soul_ _. That's how she fell in love with me - she took one look in my eyes and said she **knew** that we were meant to be._"

" _And w_ _hat do you think, Daddy?_ "

He would pause, think, then press a gentle kiss to Frisk's temple before whispering into her ear, making her giggle at the sensation.

" _...I fell in love with your mother because of her spirit,_ " he grinned against her face, letting her feel the ear-to-ear smile, " _She used to ask me out all the time...did you know that? And even when I told her no, she never gave up. But she kept trying, because she believed I was worth all the effort -_ "

" _Oh, look at this man! Lying to his daughter 'bout her mama,_ " Kathy had sneaked up behind them, wrapping her arms around her husband's middle, " _Mm-mm-mmm. For shame!_ " A playful, scolding tone tinged her voice, adding bright stars in that swirling, violet galaxy of color.

" _I am telling her the **truth**_ _,_ " he laughed, letting his wife pop her head over his shoulder to kiss Frisk's nose, " _You were so persistent...my mother could not believe that_ you _were the one pursuing_ me _!_ "

" _Fine! Let it be known that all Johnson women enjoy doin' the chasin', not the other way around,_ " she would announce proudly, referring to one of her oldest ancestors, " _My mama was the same way, and so was her mama before her, and her mama before her! And you, too, Miss Frisky. When you find your special someone, you're gonna feel that fire in your blood and that twinkle in your heart, and before you know it -_ "

" _Kathy!_ " Wally whined oddly, hugging Frisk to his chest tightly, " _She's too young for all of that! Ten, no, twenty years too young! In fact, she may never be ready for boys!_ "

" _Oh Wally..._ " Kathy sighed with a chuckle, rubbing his back, " _What're we gonna do with you?_ "

Frisk smiled as the memories of their combined laughter faded into nothing, returning her back to the present. She dried her face and wiped away any extra ointment, bringing her hands to feel her hair. Her mother had brushed it well, not a hair out of place in her short bob.

"You done cleaning up, baby?" came Kathy's voice, echoing from the kitchen, "Need me to help put on your clothes?"

"No, I'm okay!" Frisk called back, shutting off the light and quickly making her way back to her bedroom, "What time is it?"

"About 5:00! Arnie's coming around 5:30!"

"'Kay!" she counted the next frame she found - three layered grooves - and ducked inside. She didn't have much time to get dressed and eat - the plan was for Arnie to come pick her up early and take her with him to the academy. There, he'd help her get acquainted with the space, without the need to fight foot traffic from other students. Frisk felt for her dresser, which was against the wall to the right of the entrance, and sought out the outfit they'd put together the night before. She smiled softly as her fingers caressed the soft material of the clothes, a soft flush covering her cheeks.

' _Maybe...I might even find someone like Mom found Dad..._ ' she wondered, recalling the memory once more...

* * *

Kathy sprinkled one last pinch of salt on the cooked omelette and set its plate across from her own with a sigh. That was the last of the eggs, which meant she needed to go out to the store sometime soon. It was a staple food in the Fox household, and personally a favorite ingredient in Kathy's creations. However, now came the question...should she try to integrate herself into the Ebott District's community? Shop at their stores? Converse with her neighbors? It would be logical if she were still in a human-centric district, but Ebott was known for its large monster population - in fact, she wasn't even sure if there were any other humans besides herself, Frisk, and Arnie in the entire district.

That was a harrowing thought...made worse when she thought of what she was going to say to Frisk during breakfast about -

"Mom? How...how do I look?"

The older woman shook herself free from the troubling thoughts and focused on her daughter, who was standing in the door frame of the kitchen and...

...

There she was. And she looked so...grown-up.

Frisk was dressed in a short, maroon cropped sweater and a dark, thigh-length, high waist flared skirt, accentuating her petite waist and hourglass figure. Dark wine-colored leggings covered her legs demurely, but attractively, and the entire outfit was pulled together by a pair of black chelsea boots. Preppy, stylish, and mature. If her father had been alive, he would've been panicking and fretting over her, wondering where his little girl had gone.

As tears pulled at the corners of her eyes, Kathy had to agree. Where was the baby she always pictured dressed in her pink toddler shirt and blue overalls, her hair drawn up in pigtails? Certainly not here. No, this was a girl who was on the verge of being a _woman_.

"Oh..." she felt the pride tug at her voice, soaking it in tears and the pain of seeing her baby _not_ being a baby anymore.

"What? Did I put it on wrong?!" Frisk started to panic and pull at her sweater, but Kathy just walked over slowly, her hands outstretched towards her.

"No, baby...just..." she sniffed, hugging her tightly, "Your mama just can't believe how much you've grown!"

Her daughter stilled in her arms and hugged back.

"You are so beautiful, baby," Kathy chuckled, kissing the top of her daughter's head, "And...your father would be so _proud_ of you, seeing you like this. Seeing you...grown, and takin' care of yourself, and getting this scholarship, a-and... _ohhhh_..."

Her voice reached a high-pitched keening, the emotions welling up inside of her with no signs of stopping.

"Mom. _Mom_ ," Frisk started panicking for a completely different reason as her mother started hugging her tighter.

" _Hush_ , let your mama hug you..."

"But we're going to be here foreverrrrrrr..." her teenage daughter whined, slumping against her mother as she stopped fighting it.

Kathy didn't say anything, but Frisk knew that when her mother got highly emotional, she'd hug her for long periods of time before regaining her composure. Determined to be on time, the crafty girl slid her phone out of her pocket and pressed the button, causing a loud " _5:19 AM_ " to ring out. In seconds, her mother snapped out of it and let go quickly.

"Oh God, we gotta get you fed before Arnie comes in!" her mother scurried back to the kitchen, the sound of her slippers slapping against the tile floor.

Frisk sighed in relief when she was released, and took the white, folding cane off the wall to her right. It was simple, cheap, but she enjoyed the rapping sounds immensely - little spurts of golden, yellow pops like flower buds sprouting everywhere she touched. She tapped her way over to the kitchen table and reached out for a chair, a smile on her face as she smelled the savory omelette with a hint of spinach.

"Now, I know the scholarship covers school books and everything, but if you need anything else, I took a little extra cash out just for today," Frisk sat down as her mother spoke, sweeping her hands across the table carefully for her fork and plate, "I put it in your wallet, so no need to worry about searching for it, okay?"

Both of them put their hands together before starting to eat, uttering an ' _itadakimasu!_ ' before starting - a leftover habit from Wally, who always said it before every meal.

"Okay, Mom," she responded as she took her first mouthful of omelette. Frisk had tried to refuse allowance before, knowing how tight their budget was, but her mother would always insist. Eventually, she'd resorted to just saving it and putting it back in her mother's wallet when she wasn't looking. Not that she wasn't grateful, but Frisk really didn't need much, and preferred her mother to hold onto the money anyway.

"And my schedule will be a _little_ different since our place is a bit farther out," Kathy sat down, the scraping of her chair a discordant orange streak.

The teenager gripped her fork tighter, tensing. Her mother was already working so late, and so often...if she gave up anymore time at home, Frisk would never see her.

"Don't worry," her mother spoke in a knowing voice, her hand reaching out to pat Frisk's gently, "I've been giving this thought for some time now and...I might try to get Rory to cut me my last paycheck today. It'll leave me with the Newhouse and Hampshire jobs, and if I find anything better _here_ , I might quit those jobs, too."

Frisk was stunned. Her mother used to rant and rave about those jobs, saying that they were the only things keeping them afloat. To give them up...were the prospects really that great here in the Ebott District? Even better than the Hampshire job?

"Turns out there's quite a lot of places clamoring for human help here," Kathy started eating, keeping an eye on Frisk's reactions, "Even your school said they'd be willing to hire me as one of the cafeteria chefs, or a cooking teacher. And the pay isn't half-bad. What do you think?"

"...Uh..." she flushed, tucking her knees together and pointing her head down at her food, "I think that's...great..."

A part of her was completely honest about that. Another part of her, the _teenage_ part, was a bit horrified. She loved her mother, but going from barely seeing her 4 hours a day to nearly all the time was daunting.

"Don't worry - your mama was a teenage girl, too, you know?" she chuckled, enjoying the uncomfortable wiggle in her daughter's shoulders, "I won't take the cafeteria or cooking teacher job, not until I've checked out the others. And only under dire circumstances, for the sake of my precious baby girl."

She reached over again, this time pinching Frisk's cheek and earning an embarrassed, flustered whine. Sometimes, this was what being a parent was all about - teasing the crap out of your kids.

***thump***

Both Fox women looked up in surprise at the noise and Kathy looked over at the kitchen clock - _5:32 AM_.

"Okay, go get your bag and things, I'll wrap this up so you can eat it on the way," Kathy spoke in a hurried manner, shoveling her own omelette into her mouth, "Go, go!"

Frisk walked as quickly as she could, letting her cane guide the way as she made it over to the door. Her bag, a worn black satchel, hung on a hook to the right of it, and she slung it over herself before calling out to Arnie. She could hear his heavy footsteps, like that of work boots, in the hall.

"Hold on, we're almost ready!" she smoothed her hair and felt a sudden thrill run through her. Frisk faced the door, her face feeling flushed and her heart going a mile a minute. That noise had been like a gunshot at a swimming competition - this was _go-time_. She was going to get to 'see' her school for the first time, the place where maybe...just maybe, she could be something _more_ than just the color of her skin or what ethnicity she was.

A precious smile was on her lips as she took a deep breath, and placed her hand on the door knob and turned, opening it wide to welcome Arnie.

"Hi," she spoke softly and brightly, her cheeks probably a bright red, "Sorry, we'll be right out - Mom's just making breakfast to-go."

Silence greeted her, but she could feel his presence there. He must've been really surprised by her when she opened the door. Was it her new school clothes? A flurry of pride and confidence swelled in her breast, feeling far prettier than she ever did before. Frisk tucked some of her hair behind her ear, smiling wider.

"Do you like it?" she asked with a giggle, picking up one corner of her skirt and twirling slowly, "Mom said I should look my best for the first day of school."

Again, nothing but silence.

"Baby, is Arnie there?" her mother called out from the kitchen, and Frisk turned around.

"Yeah!" she responded, then looked back at Arnie, "He's right - "

A whoosh of air passed by her, and Arnie departed, exiting to her right and down the hall. She couldn't even hear his footsteps - he must've been booking it - leaving her standing there in confusion. What just happened? Arnie wouldn't just storm off like that...he needed to take her to school! Just as she was about to chase him, however...

"Frisk?" the sound of Arnie's voice startled her, making her freeze. Bushy puffs of his signature forest green bloomed to her left, and her mind ground to a halt.

From her...but it's not possible, he...is this a joke?

...If Arnie was on her left, then...w-who...?

...

Frisk felt a combination of embarrassment and fear take root in her.

"I'm so sorry, I got caught up with locking the door, and then I forgot my wallet, so I had to go back and - " Arnie stopped in the middle of his apology, noticing the awkward way Frisk was standing, "Frisk? You okay?"

She sunk to her knees, making his eyebrows shoot up in alarm and his hands fly to grasp her shoulders.

"Frisk! What's wrong?!" he panicked, and her mother followed suit shortly after.

"What happened?! Frisk? Baby, what is it?!" she went to crouch next to Frisk, but her foot bumped into something, "What...a newspaper?"

Mrs. Fox picked up the bulky, plastic-wrapped bundle of paper before tossing it against the wall and out of her way, more concerned with her daughter's well-being at the moment. When the newspaper hit the wall, however, it made a very distinct sound.

***thump***

"M-Mom?" Frisk let her mother hug her, but was more focused on the sound, "What did you just do?"

"It was a newspaper, honey," Kathy explained, checking her daughter over carefully, "Somebody must've been delivering door-to-door. Why?"

"..." Frisk was silent, but her face was burning, and her hands flew up to cover it. She had just posed and twirled for a complete stranger, in her new school clothes, assuming they were Arnie. Probably a mailman or a paper boy, judging by the footsteps. Someone who would be frequenting their apartment complex _every day_. She groaned and tucked her head into her lap, and Kathy worried over her again, with Arnie standing off to the side, befuddled.

Embarrassing herself before she even got to school was not how she pictured this day going.

* * *

**Back-Door #1**

**New Neighbors**

* * *

_well, now. that was new.  
_

Converse sneakers thumped across the carpeted hall floor as the monster made his way back to his apartment room, located on the floor above the... **humans** , and the up-close encounter he'd just experienced.

_strange. i was standing right in front of her and she didn't even..._

He hung his head down, a few digits made of gleaming white bone scratching at the back of a smooth skull. Tiny white lights, his "eyes", darted to and fro as he tried to make sense of what just happened, the sound of his rustling blue parka against his white T-shirt, and the swish of his black polyester basketball shorts the only noise in the hall.

_it was like she couldn't even see me..._

The monster recalled the incident, then the strange white cane in her hands. He hadn't taken much note of it when she started doing that twirling bit, but now it made more sense.

_...oh. of course. can't be afraid of what you can't see. should've known._

He made it to his door, trudging along as he pondered, deep in thought. The shock of the incident was still thrumming through his bones, but there was something else he couldn't place...some other emotion that had settled there with it.

_so...now the place's got humans. papyrus is gonna be thrilled..._

Frowning, he fished for his keys and unlocked the door, letting himself in. It was a spacious home, with a touch of magic to make it two floors instead of one - fitting the enormous space inside the size of one small apartment. The first floor was a kitchen and living room, while the top floor was split between his room and his brother's. He shrugged off his parka and slung it over the sofa in the living room, heading over to a dresser with a mirror. It was like he was in a daze, his bones still vibrating with that unknown feeling.

Then, he caught sight of himself in the mirror - a short skeleton in casual clothes, looking flustered. The most distinguishing feature: the bright blue blush that had settled over his cheekbones.

_...what?_

He went closer to the mirror and touched his cheeks, his white pupils tracing over the obvious color.

_what am I doing that for?!_

His mind went back to the human girl, the one who had twirled.

_it's just a human! the same humans who despised and hated monsters since -_

He remembered her smile. Now _that_...that was a _great_ smile. And if there was one thing skeletons knew - it was smiles.

_..._

He remembered the way her SOUL danced in her rib cage, unseen to her and her kind, but so visible to monsters like him. Had she been able to see, she would've called him a pervert for staring at her chest like that. Hope. Confidence. _Determination_. He shuddered. It was powerful to witness it first-hand, but that was the first time it wasn't channeled into violence or hate or fear.

_so that's what DETERMINATION is supposed to look like when it ain't trying to turn you into dust. it's...nice..._

The skeleton monster would've thought about it longer, had he not heard the clomping of heavy boots coming down the staircase. He shook his head and rid himself of his blush, letting the color bleach itself out of his bones.

"BROTHER! DID YOU FINISH NEWSPAPER DELIVERY! IT WAS OUR TURN TO DISTRIBUTE TO THE COMPLEX, AND YOU TOLD ME YOU COULD - "

"yeah, don't sweat it, bro. i got it done. i'd never tell ya a _fib-ula_."

"UGH, STOP THAT! WAIT...WHY ARE YOU STARING AT THE MIRROR?"

"...no reason. hey, did you know we got humans living in our neighborhood now?"

"OF COURSE! THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAD BROUGHT HOME NUMEROUS PAMPHLETS FROM SCHOOL TO SHOW YOU - THERE'S A NEW PROGRAM THAT WILL BRING ALL THE HUMANS TO _US_! NO MORE HAVING TO GO TO _THEM_!"

"no, paps. i mean, there's a couple of humans living below us...right _now_."

" **...WHAT?! AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME UNTIL NOW?!** "

"i wanted to take a nap. school isn't for another hour and i wanted to rest my bones before then."

"SANS, YOU'RE SUCH A LAZY BONES! ONCE SCHOOL IS OVER, WE SHOULD GO INTRODUCE OURSELVES! AFTER ALL, IT'S NOT NICE TO KEEP OUR NEW NEIGHBORS WAITING!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FW09: All right! And chapter done!
> 
> And...just because I found it, but have you guys SEEN Lazuen's work on Human!Sans (Overtale AU)?! Like...hngggghhh...crap. Jesus, what is with me and liking white-haired hot dudes? But seriously, if you haven't seen it, type in "Lazuen" in Google and you should be able to see what their version of Human!Sans looks like.
> 
> Seriously...I want to see a fanfiction of that guy. *swoons*
> 
> (...And I also have a secret hankering for Human!PapyrusXMonster!Frisk(teenage/older) because of Lazuen. You can probably find the picture that inspired it pretty easily, LOL, so I won't say what's in it...but damn. I ship it. <3 No joke - recommend me some fics if y'all have any goodies.)
> 
> WARNING: Rant about art theft below
> 
> (But...as I looked further into Lazuen, who is a Korean artist of IMMENSE TALENT, I found that unfortunately...there were some unsavory people who used their work for their own fanfictions/roleplay/uses. Some had been downright rude in using Lazuen's work as a means of attacking them racially and insulting them, or completely claimed the artwork as their own and generated profit off of it. Others were nicer, but the response included things that were arrogant like "you should be glad I'm using your artwork" and "it's not really your fault, but you should've watermarked it". There were also some who honestly didn't know Lazuen as the artist because they were using previously-stolen pieces from other people who claimed Lazuen's work as their own, or didn't understand that using Lazuen's work without permission was hurting them, financially and emotionally.
> 
> Sigh...
> 
> I do not condone art theft. I don't condone theft of any kind, but ART theft is the one that breaks my heart. It's intellectual (creative) property that an artist puts their passion into, and visual media is just as difficult as literary or physical/dance media.
> 
> For future's sake, and for artists like Lazuen, do not reupload, reuse, or claim someone else's art as your own. If you do want to use their art, make sure to reach out to them, contact them, and ask for their permission. Sometimes their passion for art is on the line, sometimes their LIVELIHOODS - just like filmmakers whose movies get pirated and get sent to those illegal streaming sights, it could hurt them financially.
> 
> In Lazuen's case, they experienced severe depression from months of unauthorized usage, and made them feel like not wanting to draw ever again. They had to get a new Tumblr, and a lot of the artwork that was available to the public had to be taken down. And it's sad because...well, if you've seen their work, it's amazing! For the people who used Lazuen's work and didn't credit Lazuen, they really had no excuse because even I could find Lazuen after they took down their Tumblr and everything, and it was all through Google - not even 10 minutes. Imagine how easy it would've been before all the art theft, and Lazuen's work was just floating out there freely? The only excuse they could've had was if Lazuen didn't sign their work, but since Lazuen was well-known within the Undertale community, and constantly signed their work in Korean AND English, even that excuse falls flat.
> 
> Lazuen's tale is a cautionary one. Don't be an art thief. Don't be that person.
> 
> Anyway...just wanted to put that out there, since it was a subject that I felt strongly about. Sorry if this dampened your day.)

**Author's Note:**

> FW09: Hmmm...how did y'all think this chapter went?
> 
> I feel like I could work on some parts, but at the same time, this is an introductory chapter. I didn't want to overwhelm anyone with exposition just yet, so I kept details to a bare minimum.
> 
> There will be an explanation of what time Frisk is in, and what's going on around her in the next chapter, but I guess this is more a "test" chapter than anything. Testing the waters to see if anyone would be interested in this. The rating for this fic also might go up in time, depending on what happens and the responses (I am not opposed to Undertale smut, LOL, and I know it's out there).
> 
> I'm also not posting pairings yet. Not until I feel like this fic is going anywhere. I have posted this to FF if you'd rather have more consistent update alerts.
> 
> Until next time, lovelies, I hope you enjoyed reading and I'll see you in the next one!


End file.
